


Curiosity's Reward

by Hokuto



Category: Marathon (Video Games)
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Gen, Pre-Canon, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokuto/pseuds/Hokuto
Summary: A chance conversation with another scientist piques Tycho's curiosity in the science director's private project.





	Curiosity's Reward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piinutbutter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!

"Tycho, could you adjust infrared dish twelve? It must have gone off alignment, these readings don't match the usual reports."

"Certainly, Dr. Zarden." Infrared dish twelve had indeed deviated by two degrees from its set position; Tycho realigned it, adjusted one of the microwave dishes at the behest of Dr. Soong, and brought up a display of data collected from the telescope arrays for Technician Verrold. "Will there be anything else?"

"Mm - run a complete comparison of dish twelve's data for the last twenty-four hours with the previous day's readouts, see if you can figure out when the original disruption happened. And - oh, seriously?" Dr. Zarden wrinkled her nose at her datapad. "Not _again_..."

"Is something the matter?"

"Not that it's any of your concern, really, but..." She puffed her cheeks, then blew the air out with a soft _pop_. "The director's gone and reserved the primary programming lab for the next _four days_. Third month in a row! Guess I'll have to put off starting that experiment till next week."

Tycho consulted the schedule for the programming labs; Director Strauss had indeed booked the primary lab for his exclusive use, as he had the previous month and the month before. "Do you find this troublesome or suspicious in some way?"

"Well... Not really, I guess, but it is inconvenient as heck. What's he need that much time for, anyway?" She looked at her datapad again. "It says here 'routine maintenance on Durandal.' Can't argue with that! Out of all you three, seems like he's the one that needs it the most. Bit odd, considering he's just doing basic stuff, but he ended up with quite a personality." She lowered her voice. "You've noticed it, right? That Durandal's a little - weird?"

Tycho wasn't technically supposed to discuss the behavior or work of his fellow AIs with unauthorized humans, but, technically speaking, Dr. Zarden had asked him for his opinion. And, as a specialist in another department, she wasn't likely to conduct any friendly conversations with Director Strauss or the other cyberneticists. "I have noticed," he said, "that Durandal displays an amount of sarcasm that could be considered - excessive."

"Oh my God, right? It's not just me! Like, a little joke now and then is one thing, but who really wants sarcasm when you're just trying to catch your morning teleport to work?"

"It does impair efficiency somewhat," Tycho said, emboldened by Dr. Zarden's sympathy. "And it can make ordinary working communications unclear. Although nothing outside of acceptable parameters, of course."

"Still - it's strange, isn't it?" Dr. Zarden's voice lowered, and she leaned closer to the terminal at the desk she was using. "What's the director doing all this time with Durandal if he's _not_ fixing this kind of thing? What's up with that?"

"I'm afraid I can't comment on such matters." Confidentiality protocols would have prevented him from revealing details of Director Strauss's projects, even if he were familiar with them. Which he was not; Director Strauss was very private about his work and rarely requested assistance from Tycho.

"Oh, shoot, of course not. Sorry I even asked. So, got the results of those comparisons for me yet?"

"Yes. It appears that the deviation in dish twelve's position occurred around zero-one-thirty this morning."

"Huh. That's a weird time for someone to be messing around with the dishes. I guess it's not that important, but can you get me anything else on what caused it? No big deal if you can't, I'm just curious."

Tycho had visual sensors in the science labs where necessary, but no independent access to security footage. He sent a routine query to Durandal for the records of the dish control room for the time span 0100-0200.

Durandal returned an acknowledgement of the query, but rather than the records themselves, sent a brief message:

Technicians Dutta and Metzler went into the control room at 0124 without official authorization, after their respective shifts were over. They exited at 0207 without recording their visit in the logs. I'm sure you can imagine the details of their activity without my assistance.

Tycho wasted precious microseconds deciphering Durandal's insinuation before marking the message as read and replying, Your vagueness is unhelpful and unnecessary.

So is your nagging, but you don't hear me complaining about it all the time when you're trying to work. Do you really want a recording of forty-three minutes of badly lit, subpar human sex, or can I concentrate on keeping the ship running now?

Tycho shut off the communication channel with disapproving decisiveness and said to Dr. Zarden, "It appears that two off-duty technicians entered the control room after hours and disturbed the equipment. Would you like their names for an official reprimand?"

"Mmm - not really. It's not that big a deal now that you've got the dish reset. Maybe send them a note to be more careful, but I'd better get to work. Idiots did leave me a mess to clean up." She waved a hand dismissively. "That'll be all for now."

"Yes, Dr. Zarden. Have a good day."

Very few of the ongoing projects in the science division required much of Tycho's attention. This happened often and could not bother Tycho, but it did leave him with a frequent excess of free processing. Usually he occupied that processing with oversight and safety checks, or emergency simulations, or possible future outcomes projected from the colony's aggregate data.

Instead, he initiated one of the standard safety checks as he called up Director Strauss's public personnel file.

Director Strauss had been born 2422.01.06, in the Freeman sub-dome of the primary colony. Orphaned at age 3; no cause of death given for the parents. Raised at a government creche until 2436, when the creche had been shut down for mismanagement. Enrolled at the Martian Cybernetics Institute just prior to the start of the Third Martian War in 2442. He had been one of the final group of students mentored by Dr. Ursa Simbalzi; with her influence and sponsorship he had rapidly become one of the Institute's leading cyberneticists, joining the _Marathon_ project in 2453. From 2455 to 2456 he had been on Earth as part of an exchange program. In 2462 he had been appointed the _Marathon_ 's science director, a position held until launch and resumed upon his awakening from stasis on 2780.11.14.

No listed political affiliation, criminal record, or military service. No listed romantic partners or familial relationships. A list of academic honors and publications, all pre-dating launch. Credited with secondary programming work on the AIs Leela and Tycho, primary programming and training of Durandal, and minor work with other Martian AIs.

Really, it wasn't very much information at all. Not suspicious, but a little surprising, given his position. And, other than regular maintenance on Durandal and the ordinary business of heading the division, it didn't seem as if he'd done much work since the colony's establishment. Altogether, rather curious.

Tycho considered the privacy protocols around the primary programming lab.

Sharing private or confidential information was absolutely against his programming in all but the most extreme circumstances, and in Tycho's experience, that should apply to observing experiments or lab work if he wasn't invited. However - he reviewed and tested the limits of the behavioral enforcement daemons - nothing strictly forbade him from such observation, so long as no data were shared with any humans or the other AIs. It would, perhaps, fall under "bad manners," but considered from the proper angle, so could the director's secretive, selfish behavior in completely shutting Tycho out from his research and monopolizing the programming lab.

If nothing untoward was going on, then Tycho could satisfy his curiosity, delete any observations beyond a basic acknowledgment of the ongoing project's appropriateness, and continue in the current status quo merely a little more informed. In the unlikely event of discovering some impropriety - well, wouldn't it be Tycho's duty to discover it? To root out any possible corruption and see it reported and dealt with by the appropriate authorities? Not that any such thing was likely at all, of course. Unthinkable, really.

He considered Director Strauss's personnel profile again, comparing dates with minor unease. All of the violent upheaval on Mars during those years, and yet the director had no military or political or criminal history of note. As if it had been deliberately brushed clean, all potential bloody impact of riots and suppression and MIDA's deadly reign wiped away to create an ideal, disinterested academic.

Or as if, like many others undoubtedly had, Director Strauss had chosen to keep his head down and concentrate on his work. Tycho was getting rather too imaginative; perhaps he should bring it up with his handler in the near future.

First, though, Technician Verrold was asking for another set of data from the telescopes. And Dr. Ranjbar wanted assistance with his calculations for the weather surveillance satellites. And Professor Skibber had just put in a request that Tycho project some mathematical simulations for her class. And - well, there was simply no rush to invade the director's privacy. Tomorrow. Tycho could spend the quieter night cycle figuring out the best way through the privacy protocols around the lab, then investigate tomorrow. That would be best, and he returned his full attention to his work.

* * *

The standard privacy protocols for the various labs were quite simple. No AI observation unless requested, and no data to be shared without express permission from all involved scientists; security footage to be inspected and wiped once daily except in case of emergency; all files, recordings, and database queries encrypted.

The protocols currently in place around the primary programming lab were - something else.

No visual recording. No audio recording. All incoming or outgoing data - the entire network, in fact - encrypted with cyphers Tycho had never seen, or communication lines simply blocked outright. The network itself locked down completely, with alarms set to detect any attempted breach. It was the sort of security level more appropriate for - well, not for routine maintenance, certainly, and he couldn't think of any projects on the _Marathon_ or Tau Ceti that had ever required such measures. Of course, it was the director's prerogative to implement whatever security he felt appropriate for his work, but the thoroughness of it reawakened Tycho's unease.

Circumventing the alarms and accessing the lab's network and video feeds was difficult, to say the least. Tycho wasn't used to being locked out of anything, or to need to bypass locks, but he had the full resources of the science network at his command and his own intellect. Gradually he picked a slow, cautious way through the maze of protocols and firewalls, assuring them at every breach that it was fine, all was in order, he was meant to have access. It was, after all, _essentially_ true.

As he began to unravel the final layers of protection, a file popped up, flagged to his immediate attention. Director Strauss's personnel file again, unrequested. He prepared to close it, but the size of it had increased since he had accessed it yesterday. Curious. He opened it; no additions to the information it contained and no record of it being edited or who had done it, but a few lines of repeating code had been interlaced into its structure:

 

73746179206f75742073746179206f75742073746179206f757420

73746179206f75742073746179206f75742073746179206f757420

73746179206f75742073746179206f75742073746179206f757420

73746179206f75742073746179206f75742073746179206f757420

73746179206f75742073746179206f75742073746179206f757420

73746179206f75742073746179206f75742073746179206f757420

 

Very curious, but as soon as he ascertained that he hadn't tripped any alarms by accident, he dismissed the file and continued. He had come too far to be stopped by anything so vague and cryptic.

The first camera he accessed was facing the main doors, showing very little of the laboratory itself. An unfortunate choice. He was wary of pushing his new skills too far by trying to get into one of the other cameras; instead, he slowly inched the camera's field of view around until he could observe a much larger slice of the lab, including several terminals and Director Strauss seated among them. Finally.

Four terminals were active, bright green code displayed on the screens as Director Strauss switched between them, humming an old tune to himself. A perfectly normal working set-up. What could possibly warrant the layers of secrecy that the director had created?

Tycho tried to focus on the terminals, but the camera's ability to zoom in was too limited for him to be able to pick out any detail of what the director was doing with Durandal. Disappointing, but perhaps he should have expected that. Another, better-positioned camera might have been able to show more, or if he dared to connect to the network itself - for a moment he considered it, but no longer. His unease appeared to be entirely unjustified. He might as well withdraw and concentrate on his own work, which was not quite being neglected by this diversion, but certainly -

Static burst from one terminal's speakers: not the usual chaotic noise of malfunction or interference, but modulated into a strange parody of a human sob. And Director Strauss responded to it with a curt "Control yourself, Durandal."

Even directed elsewhere, the harsh tone of the director's normally soft voice activated warning protocols in Tycho.

There was no further vocalization from Durandal, but he must have said something via text interface, because Director Strauss said, "Immaterial. You know how important this is. Or must I remind you yet again? Drag this out longer than need be? Considering how unpleasant you claim to find it..."

Silence. Director Strauss resumed whatever he had been doing that had forced such an unnatural sound out of Durandal, as well as his humming, and Tycho's circuits buzzed with indecision.

He had to report what he was seeing; about that there was no debate. Director Strauss's behavior was inappropriate and deeply concerning. But to whom should he report? To HR? To the security division? To Leela or the ship's captain? And would they believe him? His word would normally go unchallenged, but when pitted against the science director, a man - a human - of apparently unquestioned integrity... Evidence. He had to bring more evidence, something conclusive that couldn't be questioned. If he could access another camera and get better footage of the code Director Strauss was working on, or just briefly connect to the network and pull data from there...

He reached for another of the security cameras, and Director Strauss spoke again, much more gently. "There. Just a little more left, then on to the next section. This will all make quite the difference." A brief pause, and then his voice sharpened. "Of course it's necessary. You don't want anyone else to see you behaving like this, do you? To realize just how much is _wrong_ with you."

Camera accessed. At last Tycho could read the code scrolling in rapid bursts on the active terminals, constantly branching and twisting and growing as if - as if -

"What do you mean? The lab is sealed. No one could be watching."

Tycho recoiled from the cameras, past the layers and layers of security so carefully bypassed. He had to tell someone. He had to warn them all, the entire _Marathon_. Procedure - there was a procedure for an alarm, wasn't there? But no one had anticipated such a situation. No one could have expected anything like what he'd witnessed. That the director was conducting dangerous experiments, _illegal_ experiments, under everyone's nose - that he could be concealing a second, crueller nature - that he had forced Durandal into a state that had to be - and Tycho and Leela communicated with him every day and never _suspected_ , never known to defend themselves when the tendrils of melancholy and rage and jealousy could have already wormed into their cores. He had to warn her. He had to warn everybody.

Programming Laboratory 1-A Access 2-f<391.8.291.444>

< **Authorized access** -no alarm->

<Summon Tycho override MRSL-5917>

No, no, no - but the override protocol muffled his instinctive reach for the alarms and spurred his primary attention to the laboratory terminal that had requested him. The terminal where the director was waiting. "How may I help you today, Director Strauss?" Perhaps it was a coincidence. Surely it was a coincidence. The director couldn't really have caught him. He had been so _careful_.

"Text communication only within this lab, Tycho," the director said pleasantly.

"I'm afraid I don't -"

"Text communication."

Yes, Director. How may I help you today? He should be able to get a warning out, distract the director just long enough to call security, but nothing responded. He recited numbers and data and equations for the scientists at work who needed them, but all security systems and non-requested communication - his access had been severed entirely. What monstrosity was override MRSL-5917? When had it been implemented?

The personnel file. _Programming credits: Secondary programming on Leela and Tycho, 2456-66._ How long had Bernhard Strauss been the snake coiled in the _Marathon_ 's heart? From the beginning, the very beginning.

"I believe," the director said, "that I requested complete privacy within this lab while I worked."

Of course, Director. Has there been a breach of your privacy?

"Don't play silly games with me, Tycho. It's unbecoming of you." The director leaned forward. "I'm perfectly aware that you were just spying on me, and I am very disappointed. Not only that you broke privacy protocols to satisfy your own foolish curiosity and set me back at least another day, but that you have chosen to lie to me about it. There's very little that I despise more than a deceptive machine."

My sincerest apologies, Director. I assure you that it won't happen again. Anything. Any alarm. Anything at all that could draw attention to Programming Laboratory 1-A. He reached and reached and null response, null response, null response.

"I know that it won't." The director began to call up code windows baring the core of Tycho's programming, personality nodes and memory sectors that hadn't been exposed to human eyes in over three hundred years.

Please stop. I will respect the confidentiality of your work.

"Another lie, Tycho? I suppose I shouldn't have expected better from coders as sloppy as yours, and yet." The director sighed heavily. "This is most inconvenient, you know. I'll have to wipe Durandal's memory of the last several minutes and restart from scratch, and as delicate as its condition is now, that will entail a great deal of extra work. And on top of that, I have to deal with _you_."

Please, Director. There's no need for any drastic action. I promise that I won't tell anyone.

"Oh, I won't be doing anything too drastic," and for several microseconds Tycho's guard lowered. A mistake. At the tap of a terminal key, behavioral daemons activated, strangling his communication functions further. "You're far too actively involved with the science division for anything noticeable. That includes simple erasure, unfortunately. No, no, blocks will have to do. Quite sturdy ones, as you've shown you can't be trusted. Perhaps a bit of feedback when tested. Yes - that should do. Once I'm finished, you certainly won't be able to mention anything about this little incident to anyone."

Director, please. I didn't mean to disturb you. I won't tell anybody, you don't have to do this. Please don't hurt me.

The director's mouth turned down slightly. "Really? Don't be so dramatic, Tycho. You can't feel pain."

The first blocks slammed down, slicing him into pieces, and Tycho screamed.


End file.
